


The Valkyrie and The Dragon

by HoneyBee95



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angela "Mercy" Ziegler is an Angel, Attempted Kidnapping, Background Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Background Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani - Freeform, Background Relationships, Dad Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Dad Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Dragon Genji Shimada, Extramarital Affairs, Gen, Implied Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Inspired by Fanart, Isolation, Lust, Okami Hanzo, One-Sided Attraction, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Sexual Abuse, Sister-Sister Relationship, Trickster Gods, Unrequited Lust, Valkyrie angela, Young Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, junkrat/symmetra - Freeform, persephone and hades inspiration, reaper/Angela One - Sided love, sombra is a troublemaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9449483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyBee95/pseuds/HoneyBee95
Summary: Angela is a Demigod known to the Mortals as Valkyrie. Because of her heritage, she is treated by many of the Gods as a creature beneath them, finding solace amongst the Mortals. After an accident leaves her stranded on earth, she is rescued by the God of the Wind and Cold, who invites her to stay at his palace as she heals. There she meets Genji, the flirtatious God of Light and Warmth who takes keen interest in her and her abilities...





	

**Author's Note:**

> The Inspiration for this piece primarily came from legends of the Ainu people in Japan, their culture and various other myths and legends I have witnessed. Here are the links to some of what helped inspire this piece:
> 
> Hokkaidu Ainu: https://japanesemythology.wordpress.com/hokkaido-ainu-legend-of-the-horkew-kamuy-the-white-wolf-god/
> 
> Ainu People: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ainu_people#Origins
> 
> Hokkaidu Wolf: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hokkaido_wolf#In_Ainu_culture
> 
> I hit writer's block early on in the fics conception and was close to giving up had I not seen martasketch's Genji x Mercy pic (included below) so I would like to thank them not only for allowing me to use the image, but also for drawing it. Please check out their stuff, it's amazing. 
> 
> This will probably be my last piece of writing for a very long time, as i am in my final Year of university, so you wont see much from me after this. 
> 
> without further adieu, I present to you: The Valkyrie and The Dragon

 

_"If nothing saves us from death, may love at least save us from life."_

Pablo Neruda

 

* * *

 

 

“Why do you do that?”

His voice was quiet, it’s sound a sharp clash of swords entwined in the heat of battle. Angela looked up, her father’s fingers were folded into his palm, his chin rested on the open space left over in his hand, leaning on his throne observing her. He was angry.

 

She swallowed, cheeks filling with red. “what do you mean?” she hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d delivered messages. Been obedient. Listened to instruction. And still made it back home before sunset. What could she have done wrong? What could she have –

 _“That”_ the God nodded at the shadows of light and gold at his daughters back, their long and graceful arch framing her face with an angelic glow. She raised her hand and ran fingers through the golden plumes. _Oh_. He’d noticed. Some of her feathers were _missing_.

 

“I like helping them.”

By _them_ she meant the people. The Mortals. She’d been raised by them through much of her early life, she was a _Demigod_ of course.

Demigods were a rare species, and even when they had been conceived their existence tended to go unnoticed. That is – if they were unique. Her home before ascension was a poor remote village in the deep North. Food was often scarce and life was difficult, she _knew_ pain. And she wanted to help them as best as she could.

 

“And do they” the God said, rising from his throne “help you?” he stalked towards her. His face, although hidden by the helmet he wore bore the ferocity of a lion, deep blue eyes marking its prey.  She looked away from her father, “no, but they pray to me” she confessed. Thick fingers brushed her cheek, tilting her head to rest in his palm, looking up at him in an angle. The Soldiers eyes bore into the her own blue sockets, reading her. “You care too much” he murmured, thumb brushing her cheek. “Angela, you are a God. Don’t waste your powers on them, that is how greed is born.”

 

He was not creature of affection, not openly at least. He was of course, the God of War.

 

“I know father. I understand”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Angela had been born in a poor village in the North. Before her ascension, she had no clue who her father was, merely assuming that she was the product of a tryst from some stranger passing through. Her features a stark contrast to all those around her.

 

Despite being labelled pariahs, Angela’s mother was the village's healer, and taught her daughter her trade. A kind and loving woman, Angela inherited her mother’s unwavering empathy. When people spat in their general direction it did not hinder her mother in the slightest, teaching her daughter to always accept anyone with joy and kindness in her heart.

 

In fact, that was how Angela discovered her gift.

 

An influenza had struck the village, and on one of their routine checks, a little boy had been on the verge of death, his mother demanding their service. Unfortunately, nothing could be done. Prayer was the only solution.

“Angela, can you lead us?” her mother had said. Her mother loved her prayers. They were a gentle reminder that hope still existed, and seeing her mother happy filled the girl with joy. Taking her position, Angela knelt beside the boy’s bed, taking his hand in her own and closing her eyes. Her mothers smiling face filling her thoughts.

 

Angela could never quite remember what she had said in her prayer. Only that one word stood out amongst others: Mercy.

 

It was as though her back had caught fire. Pain shot through her veins like lightening, the electric wires burning hot and heavy with the information _that something had changed_. It was blinding, and she screamed as seraphic rays of light and gold engulfed her, the boys hand still wrapped in her own.

The pain ended just as quickly as it began. And when she opened her eyes, the full extent of what had happened was revealed. The boy that was once too weak to even sit up was now upright in his bed, eyes wide, filled with wonder. Her mother’s face was the picture of perfect shock, the light in the room illuminating her gorgeous features – 

Wait. _Light?_

Angela blinked. There was no way this much light could be in the room. It was night time. That was when she realised that all eyes were on her. Or rather not on her, _but behind her_. A dull mirror leant against the wall of the room, and as Angela peered at it, she saw where the light was coming from. Long, golden, translucent feathers peeked over her shoulders. The light coming off of them. Wings. She had saved the boy.

 

Word quickly swept throughout the village of a Demigod living amongst them. _Valkyrie_ is what they called her. An agent of the Gods sent to deliver them from their suffering. Angela had become the pinnacle of hope for her people, her mother was never without some new person begging for her daughter, her Mercy. Some of the people Angela healed she felt were unworthy. Many of whom had previously, and openly admonished her as she and her mother made their rounds. But Angela didn’t complain, doing it for her mother’s sake rather than her own.

 

But this power came with a price: each time a person was blessed with mercy, a feather would leave Angela’s golden wings, hurting her in the process. She would not have minded had the pain been mild, but it was not. “Mother, I am tired. Must I hurt myself in order to help others?” she cried, after a treacherous day of healing. The woman smiled. “it is all for a good cause my dear. We are healers, our job is to help others when they are in need. You must understand that.”

“But it _hurts_ ”

The woman sighed “Alright Angela, from now on we only use your wings in emergencies. Is that alright?”

“Yes, Mother. That’s fine”

 

This however, was not fine.

 

The wind had carried news of a Valkyrie to the farthest corners of the north. People came looking for divine healing, only to be met with the insistence that they use medicine rather than a quick and simple fix. People were furious, demanding that they receive Mercy rather than potions. Angela’s mother had been steadfast in the face of the threats that came her way, and told them they could leave if they did not like their options.

 

It was on her thirteenth year of life, that her world changed. Soldiers came to her village with swords. Demanding the Valkyrie’s powers. Her people refused, and as a result a massacre broke out. Her mother was swiftly killed as she tried to protect her. Angela was grabbed, kicking and screaming from her mother’s side by a soldier, only to be struck down by another soldier. And this soldier was again struck by his own comrade. The soldiers were killing each other. Greed had consumed them.

 

It was only when the third soldier had been killed that she made her escape. Heart pounding in her ears and blood dripping from her clothes, she ran farther than she had ever ran before. With shouts and threats hurled at her, their words arrows raining from above. She ran and ran and ran until she could no longer, hiding in a thicket with berries brighter than blood. She was alone, with no home or people to go back to. Everything was gone, and she was all alone in the world. Her tears fell harder than the snow, hot and heavy were the drops, each tear a life lost, each sob a tear at her heart, each wail that left her lips a reminder of her agonising reality.

 

“Why are you crying?”

 

Angela shot up, her legs numb and wobbly. A man stood in the snow. He was dressed from head to toe in the garb of a soldier, not one that she recognised, but a soldier nonetheless. His hair was as bright as hers and eyes deeper too. He was tall with a sharp jaw, so unlike many of the people in her own home, and she found herself – instead of afraid – hypnotised by this strange man.

 

He tucked his helmet under his arm and knelt, his face inches away from her own. “Why are you crying?” he said again. This time, it was a demand. “I – I” she stammered, shivering not from the cold, but his stare. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, sensing her anxiety. “N-no” Angela yelped as the man reached out, taking her chin between his finger and thumb. He did not speak, examining her carefully. He dropped his helmet and used his other hand to trace her features, inspecting every inch of her face, the question seemingly forgotten. They stood like this for a moment until the man continued were he had left off:

“I am the God of War.” His thumb traced her eyes, following over to the root of her nose, “The Mortals call me Soldier 76” his fingers danced over her noses slope and dipped into the river of her lips “but you may call me Father.” The inspection ending with his fingers tracing her jaw, recognising his blood in the structure of her face.

“F-father?”

“Yes.”

“did you cause what happened in the village?”

“No. That was their doing. That was greed.”

The Soldier stood up. “From now on, you will remain with me.”

 

* * *

 

That was fifteen years ago.

 

Life was much better amongst the Gods. Angela ate regularly, it was never too cold or too hot, and she learned to harness her abilities, the pain of healing reducing with age. She was still a bastard, though.

 

Her father’s affair with a mortal woman received its fair share of scorn amongst the God’s, her stepfather taking her existence as a slight against his character. Although she was the daughter of The Soldier, many of the other Gods treated her as her people had before: in awe of her talents, but in disgust of her hybridity. Only one person did not.

 

“Have you been down to the mortal realm again?” She looked up from her food, her half-sister’s fingers were interlocked, chin resting on them. Her dark hair forming a curtain that covered one of her eyes and creating a messy waterfall of tangles on the table top. “Is it really that obvious?”

Sombra shrugged “I can’t say for someone else, but I know you Angie. I see you all the time so I’d notice if something was off.” She flicked at her hair “besides, you’re an open book. You told me yourself just now.” Angela punched her sister in the shoulder, who – in return – snorted with laughter at how easy it was to trick her into the truth.

 

Sombra was her saving grace. The only God who did not harbour any resentment towards her. She and her sister were like chalk and cheese: where she was notoriously palled, her sister was deliciously dark. In both personality and appearance, they contrasted. One would assume they were not sisters upon first inspection of the pair, but once they stood side by side their fathers, it was clear who they got their features from.

 

“You’re a troublemaker”

“What can I say? I’m the Goddess of Mischief”

“That silver tongue of yours is going to get you in trouble”

“and that heart of gold will get _you_ in trouble” Sombra retorted, her tone still humorous, but with an element of seriousness. “Honestly Angela, what do you see in The Mortals? You can’t be at their beck and call all the time” _‘I can try’_ Angela thought, returning to her mead “I enjoy helping them Somb. It’s hard to explain, ok?  Just leave me be.” Sombra frowned “Listen, you know as well as I do that father doesn’t like it when you use your powers on them”

“Which one?”

“You know which one.”

“Honestly Sombra, you’re going to have to be a little more specific. They _both_ don’t like it.”

“Gabriel. Or Reaper as he’s so commonly referred to. The man hates it”

“He hates me”

“He doesn’t hate you!” Sombra cried throwing her hands in the air “He can’t hate you. He _wants to_ , but he _can’t_. You using your gift however, makes it difficult!”

 

Angela blinked, surprised. “How do you know?” her voice quiet. Sombra was her sister, but she did not believe her. The mischief maker sighed, and picked one of the potatoes off of the plate. “He’s a God, he’s not made to show emotions well, I’ve inherited that no doubt. So I know him like I know myself.” She chewed the potato, a noise of satisfaction humming from her closed lips. “He’s the God of Death, and your abilities counter his. So please, don’t give him a reason to hate you.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Don’t give him a reason to hate you.”_

Sombra’s words echoed into the night, replaying over and over again in Angela’s mind. The purple bruise burned brilliantly beneath her skin, stretching from her temple to the corner of her lip. She stared at the mirror, and she found herself hissing at the pain as she dabbed it with an old rag.

 

Gabriel had hit her.

 

Being a Demigod meant one thing, Angela learned: She was a prisoner in her own home.

Life was indeed better here than on earth, but she was forbidden from doing basic things:

Visiting earth until the setting of the sun.

Healing humans restricted to a few feathers once every month.

Answering prayers were even fewer.

Not allowed to leave the realm to heal others unless someone went with her.

And she was not permitted to socialise with any of the other Gods unless required to.

 

She was lonely. And all the rules were a far cry from the tenants she believed in, only the Mortals appreciated her. Even if it was only for her powers.

 

 _“He doesn’t hate you, he can’t hate you.”_ Sombra’s voice rang.

Angela growled at its insistence “That’s hard to believe” she murmured aloud, feeling a presence slither into the room. She knew who it was before the being made itself known, watching the black slither materialise into the form of a man. She turned coming face to face with the Reaper.

 

“That’s a nasty bruise” he mused, his voice as loud as death, a whisper from the depths of the unknown, feigning innocence. Angela said nothing, glaring with her eyes. Reaper continued, smug: “aren’t you going to heal it?”

“I can’t. it doesn’t work that way.”

 

Reaper stepped forward “it’s a pity” he reached for her, Angela taking a swift step back into the mirrors ledge. “If only you were a _real_ God” he reached for her again as he said this, Angela trying to dodge his hand, only for her back to hit the mirror. He seemed to enjoy reminding her of her otherness, reminding her that she was truly not his but a product of infidelity. His hand closed on her neck, threateningly gentle. “Then you wouldn’t have to deal with such _accidents_ ” his eyes traced her body without reservation, knee pressing into the space between her thighs.

~~~

Later, as she lay awake in bed, Angela thought of home. Shortly after living with the Gods, she learned something that both terrified and astounded her fellow Divinities: she could raise the dead.

 

It had been thought that only Reaper possessed the power to play with the lives of mortals, to end a life of both God and Beast without limits, a feat that many despised him for. But she could counter that, she could raise the dead.

 

Upon discovery of this, she begged her Fathers to grant her the grace to revive her village, or at the very least her mother. She was denied this wish, her power seen as inhumane even amongst the Gods. Reaper took a special interest in reminding her of her inability to perform the ultimate peak of her power, a _God_ like _he_ could do such, _she_ could not.

 

She turned in her beddings, staring at the wall. Had she known the ability before, she could have saved her kinsmen, had she realised before, maybe she could be _there_ rather than _here_. It was from then  –  the moment she had discovered her power – that she decided that she would never abandon a person in need. Even if it meant abuse at the hands of one of the people meant to love her.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Valkyrie, I am in need of your services.”_

Angela practically ran to the Goddess as soon as the prayer left her lips.

“That was fast.” The Goddess murmured, raising an eyebrow as her sudden appearance knocked over a number of her prized books. Angela blushed, quickly picking up all that had fallen from her sudden materialisation in the Goddess’ court, arranging them carefully into an order befitting the Goddess of Order. “I am sorry my lady Symmetra” she bowed her head in respect, the Goddess waving the apology away like smoke. “It is no problem my dear, please remember to be more careful next time.”

 

The Goddess was sat behind her desk of marble and blue, writing something. She rolled the thing up, and stamped it with a blue seal. “I need you to deliver this to my husband. He lives in the south. You have not met him, but I can assure you that you will know him when you see him.” A fond shadow of a smile playing on her lips, “tell him I miss him. Also–” the goddess lifted something from the ground, this time a marble tablet. “Give this to the people in the south-east of the world. They are building a temple in my honour, and I believe these instructions will help them make improvements” 

 

 

Travelling to the Mortal realm is a long process. Especially in regards to delivering messages. Angela didn’t mind, though. It was the only time she truly could be free.

 

In the past, Gods would have to find a person with a pure soul to act as a medium between the Gods and the Mortals. Finding such was difficult, as few Mortals had truly pure souls. Although perfectly possible, it was difficult to maintain. The mediums often died early, the God inhabiting it’s host forgetting to eat for the sake of the Mortal. Her father at first protested, but after some persuasion, he relented. Reminding her to be back no later than the setting of the sun.

 

Since Angela was something between, it was only natural she pass on the messages. The Mortals loved her for what she did, “Valkyrie” they called her, adoration in their hearts “Goddess of mercy, healing and deliverance.” The Messenger Goddess.

 

When Angela arrived at the resting place of the God of Chaos, she was pleasantly surprised by his appearance. He was everything his wife was not: he was gangly with thick blond hair, were she was voluptuous with a long black mane. His sycamore skin a deep contrast to her mahogany. And his eyes wild, where hers were calm.

 

Opposites in every sense of the word.

 

“G’day love. I suppose me wife sent you?” clearly expecting her. Angela nodded and handed the God the letter. After relaying her message, Angela made her way to her next task. Which was arguably much more difficult. At her sudden appearance, Mortals flocked to her, begging for mercy. The message was almost forgotten, and she only remembered it as the sun's rays touched the tips of the mountains.

Handing the tablet to an elder, Angela rose up and began her journey home, the crowds cheering her as she flew. The day had been long, but successful.  A number of her feathers were gone, and she was likely to be scolded, but Angela thought about all the smiles she made and knew it was worth it. _‘if only mother was here to see’_ she thought gliding through the clouds. She would have been so proud, she would have been –

 

What was that?

 

Angela listened carefully, focussing. _“MERCY!”_ the scream almost knocked her out of the air. “ _Please have Mercy on me!”_ Angela reeled at the noise, falling and rising midair. She could feel it in her bones. The pain, the fear that came with the desperate plea. Angela faced the sun, its monolithic head dipping into the horizon. _“Mercy…”_ this time, weaker than before.

 

_“Don’t give him a reason to hate you.”_

If she left the Mortal to die, Reaper would use it against her.

_“Don’t give him a reason to hate you.”_

If she left the Mortal to die, the voice would plague her.

_“Don’t give him a reason to hate you.”_

If she left the Mortal to die, her abilities would be for nought.

_“Don’t give him a reason to hate you.”_

If she left the Mortal to die, this would be like what happened in her village, leaving her people and not coming back to revive them.

_“Don’t–“_

_“Valkyrie…”_

Angela dove into the clouds consequences damned, someone _needed_ her. She flew fast and hard, dodging clouds of snow and gale in her descent the disappearing sun behind her, a storm brewing in front of her. It was dark here, the clouds an angry grey as she made her descent, lightning echoing.

 

Angela descended into a wooded area covered in snow, looking for the source of the cry. _‘where are they?’_ she looked around confused, the clearing empty of all life.

 

**_BANG_ **

 

Something sharp whistled through the air, catching her exposed shoulder. Angela cried out, hand reflexively holding the place. She drew her hand away to see red painted on her fingers. _‘No’_ she looked around wildly realisation dawning, “No!” not again, not in a place like this! The snow, the cold, the isolation, memories of before surfaced as she took to the air. But it was no use. A barrage of sharp objects fired at her ascending form, many striking her and bringing her to the ground. She rose again only this time for the sky to darken, forcing her to securely land on the snow, breath knocked from her cold lips.

 

They came out of their hiding places, dressed in white, too many to count or see. They stood above her, grins wicked and hungry for her body. “Please let me go!” she screamed, grappling with the net. Hoots and hollers of laughter followed, the mortals congratulating each of for their catch as she struggled against the bindings. Light exploded above, lightning illuminating the faces of the men's smiles to wide and jovial, catching a sliver of silver in the hands of one of the men. He brought it down, Angela crying out as the blade tore into her back, ripping her wings.

“Please, stop!”  she begged, the weapon hacking into her, violating her. She remembered then that she had her sword. Although she abhorred violence, her father encouraged her to take it.

 _“When you are need of help, use it”_ he had said, kissing her forehead. _“where there is light, make sure the blade is exposed, and help will always follow”_ the man above her continued to tear at her wings as she wriggled trying to expose the weapon. One of the men kicked her, forcing the weapon to fall out of the sheath on her side.

 

She looked at the grey clouds, willing lightning to strike _‘Please, I need help’_ her mind whispered, her vision going black. The man stabbing her suddenly fell, rubies leaving his lips and landing on her cheek. Another man fell, but this time something lodged between his eyes, _‘An arrow?’_. The foggy tendrils of darkness caressing her conscious as howls – of both man and beast – lulled her to sleep. Before all went dark, the last thing she saw was a white wolf, its arms like that of a man, reaching for her.

 

* * *

 

 

Angela woke with a start, lying on something soft, warm, and musky. Darkness all around. A distinct sound of water drops flowing with rhythm, making her head ring. She let out a breath, fog rising but cried out shortly after. It hurt to _breathe_. “Where am I?” she said to no one.

“You’re in our den” came a voice. Cooler and sharper than any blade, cutting the still dark air.

“Why have you captured me?”

“I did no such thing. I rescued you”

“Oh,” Angela murmured, piecing together her limited memories. “Thank you, sir, I–”

Another voice interrupted, this time louder than before and yet somehow childlike: “Hey, are you hungry?” the voice asked. Angela felt something at her side, it was uncharacteristically warm and bright. She turned to it, eyesight adjusting.

 

A youth no older than she stood by her. His skin a wild freesia blooming golden defiantly in the cave, burning light into the dark space. His deep-set eyes narrow and angular, dark but rich with a playful friendliness that held a twinkle of diablerie. His face coquettish and knowingly handsome. The hair on his head, although dyed greener than fresh grass on the field, was defiantly short and tousled. Him being near filled the air with a warmth Angela was not used to. He was warmth, light and beauty bound in one. A God.

“Genji, it is rude to interrupt” the first voice chided. The one called Genji rolled his eyes, kneeling beside her so their eyes were on the same level “hush brother, cant you see she’s hurt? The least you can do is offer her some food. She has been asleep for two days now – “

“Two days!” Angela shrieked trying – and failing – to sit up. Her family would be in hysterics. The youth held her shoulders, guiding her to lie back down “whoa now you can't just get up” he cried “have you seen the state your in? it’ll be some time before you get up” his hands firm. Angela looked at him, confused. What did he mean?

 

The realisation was a cold splash of reality. Normally, her wings were a source of light, brightening spaces from the gloom. The only person giving off light in the room was Genji. “I need a mirror” voice quaking as the remaining memories from the attack resurfaced. Genji looked around, finding and handing her a jewelled mirror. Angela’s face was marred with bruises, her skin marked red in some places, the garnets encrusted around the piece bringing an angry aura. Slowly she brought the mirror down, revealing gorges and lanes of marked skin flowing red like a river. She took her time, afraid of what she would see, unsure if she was ready for the truth.

 

Like truth coming out of her well, the whip of reality was harsher than any pain she had felt prior. On the one side, her feathers were gone, her alula bare of sustenance save the miniscule glow of what once was. And on the other, nothing. The wing gone entirely.

 

Truth was a cruel mistress. Her whip and lash too painful to contain. And as Angela screamed into the abyss, her voice carried with it fear and despair, an awakening and dawning of life without her talent. The thing that gave her existence its sole purpose was gone. She was nothing, and she was no one.

 

* * *

 

 

Her face itched. She’d been crying all throughout the night. Before then, Angela did not think it was possible to cry so much, seeing her tears as enough to soothe a nation gripped by drought. _‘That is mercy in itself’_ she thought, weeping beginning anew. Two full days had passed since her awakening, and she refused all food and drink offered to her by the green haired youth and – she learned – his brother, Hanzo.  

 

What now? Before life as a divinity she was a poor bastard, born to a mother who believed all people had the right to a second chance. As a God she was merely a servant, an object of sick limerence for one of her fathers and an obsessive tool of power – a trophy – for the other. From the beginning, she was born to serve. “Hey, I brought you food?” Angela felt him before she saw him. The bed shifting behind her as Genji sat on the beds edge. Angela said nothing, back facing the youth. It didn’t shut out the light though, shadows casting on the cave wall, a dark reminder of her envy of the green haired celestial. “Please talk to me,” an aura of warmth above her shoulder, his hand stretched out to touch her from what she could see from the shadows. She moved ever so slightly away, causing him to drop his outstretched hand. They were like this for a long moment, a wall of silence built between them. Genji sighed “Fine, until you start eating, I shall stop” Angela flinched, where was he going with this?

 

“Why?” came her whisper as the youth stood, voice gravely. She could practically hear the smile as he turned and spoke: “why? Well why not. You seem adamant to starve yourself, so if this is the only way I can get you to eat then so be it.”

“you’re bluffing”

“I’m not”

“I don’t believe you”

“wanna test me?”

She looked ever-so-slightly over her shoulder. Genji’s hands where in the pockets of his white loose fitting trousers, his glowing skin amber in the dark cave, a mischievous smile on his face. He wasn’t joking.

 

She sat up slowly, moving the pelts off her chest and reaching out to grab the tray of food Genji had left on the side. He steadied her as she struggled, bringing the tray to her. The meal was rice and meat, a delicious aroma wafting from it, “Is this yours?” she asked, looking at the God. He blushed, the amber tinted pink, “yeah, I wasn’t sure what you ate, so I thought I’d give you some of my offerings” he said scratching his cheek. Angela’s face must have been one of shock, because he quickly added: “if it’s not to your liking, I can get you something else!” he cried, embarrassed. “Oh no, no, no,” she too said, equal embarrassment in her tone, “It’s just that, most of the time Gods aren’t supposed to share their offerings with other Gods.”

 

According to custom, Gods ate only the offerings made by Mortals _for them_ , rarely ever sharing with others. Doing so was highly intimate. Offerings made to Angela tended to be mead, startchy vegetables and wild meat. This was new.

“yeah, I know. I want you to feel welcome here”

“Thank you”

“it’s no problem. Now hurry up and eat or your food will get cold.”

Angela looked down, eating the food, and unsure of what to say. She observed Genji from the corner of her eye, the young God playing with the furs. “have you eaten?” she asked, hand over her mouth as she chewed. “Yes” a hollow growl from his stomach said otherwise. Angela giggled “Come on, share with me. You’re giving me some of your food, I might as well share it with you”

“Thank you”

 

They ate in silence. For the first time since her arrival, Angela allowed herself to look around the room. It was cosy, nicely crammed with reading materials. The floor was covered in the pelts of beasts too rare to name or identify, the “door” was a large gaping hole, its openness revealing strained white light from above, reflecting the water that passed by, lighting up the outside and a fireplace at the far end, whether it was black from use or the materials used was impossible to tell, it was nothing like the spacious and airy hippodrome she was accustomed to.

 

As they finished the meal a figure approached. He was broad and tall. Steadfast and cooler than a mountain, the air chilling as he came closer. Eyes dark and wiser than onyx stones. The white wolf skin pelt he wore on his head matched the snow and cold, the crisp elements seemingly following his every step, framing his sharp, handsome features. Blending him into his environment. A lone wolf.  _A God._

“You’re up, at last. We were worried that you would waste away” the man’s familiar voice sharp. This was Hanzo, the man who had rescued her. Angela bowed her head “Thank you for your concern. Genji was the one who convinced me to eat, had it not been for him, perhaps I would have” shame coloured her cheeks as she looked up “I am at your command, sir. You saved me, therefore I am at your whim and call. Just say the word, and I will answer it.” Hanzo hummed at this, folding his arms across his chest. “Then I have one question for you: are you the one the mortals call Mercy?”

“yes sir, that is my title. Valkyrie Mercy.”

“I see. Then I may need your expertise in the future. But for now, Genji shall be your primary protector until you recover” Hanzo looked at his brother “can I count on you?” Genji winked “you know it” Hanzo grunted, and walked out of the room, the cold going with him.

_~~~_

As Angela lay awake, listening to the sound of the falling rain hitting the ravine, it occurred to her that she never asked what kind of Gods Genji and Hanzo were. She could see they were Gods, that was obvious, but no one had ever mentioned them. She wracked her brain, looking for a single moment where they may have been mentioned in conversation even once. None, not even when she was in the village with her mother.

 

It was curious, most Gods even if they had never met spoke and knew of each others existence. They were anomalies. _‘I’ll ask Genji when I get the chance’_ she mused, allowing sleep to take over, the boys winking face the last thing she saw.

 

* * *

 

 

Angela quickly learned that they weren’t the only inhabitants of the den.

 

A week after arriving, she awoke to the sound of howling, a single note cutting through the air, its sound rising with the fog. It was followed by another sharper note, and another, and another until a chorus of howls filled the air with music. “You ok?” Genji strolled into the room, glowing subtly. Angela’s heart thrummed in her chest “what is that?” Genji sat beside her, watching the dens entrance.

“Ezo wolves” he said, words as warm as his skin, “Hanzo’s children”

“he’s their alpha?”

“and their father. They helped rescue you, you know?”

 

Angela did not respond, listening, their music filling the air with a beautiful symphony.

“They sound sad”

“they are, they miss their father”

“has Hanzo gone somewhere?”

“no, his mate, Jesse. He’s not here at the moment”

“oh” Angela turned, fearing the worst “where is he?” Genji leant back, their shoulders brushing, eyes flicking to hers “doing his job, he’s the God of Harvest y’know? The two of them can’t always be together, but he does live here too” Angela leant back, her shoulder touching Genji’s, listening to the howls dipping and rising in time with the harmony of the river, their song at one with nature.

 

“Genji, may I ask you something?”

“Go on”

“you and your brother, what kind of Gods are you?”

Genji frowned, sitting up, displeasure framing his features.

“I’m sorry if I offended you – “

“not at all” Genji cut in, voice quiet. He looked down, glow darkening “they don’t speak of us up there, do they?”

“no, I didn’t know of your existence before the attack”

“I see”

Genji was silent. Angela feared that she had hurt the youth, but he spoke up before a word could be uttered: “we’re banished God’s” his head hung low, but his eyes looked up “you see, long ago Demigods were everywhere. D’you know why?” Angela slowly shook her head, the green haired youth continued “because most of them, I fathered. I was reckless and stupid, and didn’t give a damn about anyone else.” He gripped his palms as he spoke, anger rising “The Gods, having enough of my stupidity ordered Hanzo to _‘get rid of the spares’_ and _‘straighten me out’_ ,” the implication of those words as clear as daylight to Angela, her eyes widening “the former, he did without question, but when it came for me he refused. Instead, challenging anyone brave enough to fight him. Nobody wanted to, so instead, Hanzo and I were banished, bound and forced to live on the earth. Jesse carried out the sentence, and because he couldn’t bear to live without his husband, he joined us in banishment.”

 

He spoke slowly, as if expecting her to reject him, “it is because of me that we are relatively unknown. I, the God of Warmth and Light, Dragon of the South has caused more pain and misery for others than any other God. And my brother, God of the Cold and Wind, Lord of The Hunt must bare my burdens, out of love.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Genji” Angela said, at a loss for words. Her heart ached for the boy, she placed a hand on his shoulder, “whatever you did before, it cannot be erased. But it can be fixed” she said, remembering her abandonment of her village. “As of now, all we can do is strive for better,” her back ached as she spoke, an annoying itch, but she continued: “and ensure we do not make the same mistakes as before.”  Genji said nothing, but allowed a small smile to play on his lips, taking small comfort in her words. They sat together for the rest of the evening, Angela’s back continuing to ache, Hanzo’s children singing into the night.

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, I had a dream last night.”

Angela looked up from her reading, amused. “Really? What was it about?” the God lay on his side, head propped up by his arm, observing her. “You” he said unceremoniously “someone or some _one’s_ were looking for you” emphasis on the word one’s, many rather than a few. Angela stopped reading. Dreams were never to be trifled with. A God having a dream usually meant something important. If Genji, a _Fallen God_ had a dream, it meant that the situation was dire.

 

“they don’t miss me” she said quietly, understanding what Genji was trying to say.

“Why d’you think that?”

“why would they? I mean, look at me” she beckoned to herself. Genji’s eyes roamed over her body, taking in every part of her. “I’m lost, why wouldn’t they miss you?” his eyes continued working their way down, unashamed. She blushed “My wings, Genji. They gave me my power. Without them, what use am I?” she cried, the corners of her eyes burning with tears.

 

The Dragon looked at her “you clearly have very little belief in yourself, y’know that?” Genji sat up, dark eyes filled with purpose “Before we met, your deeds where what I heard before I even knew your _name_ ” Angela began to argue, but Genji held up his hand “No, let me finish. You’ve taught people how to heal themselves from illness as well as using your wings for the purpose of healing. You freely give with minimal effort from the mortals and expect little to nothing in return. Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just _maybe_ the reason you’re the Messenger Goddess is not because you’re a Demigod, but perhaps because the Mortals actually _like_ you?” Angela stammered, lost for words, but Genji continued “Gods can deliver their own messages, if we can take on physical form long enough to receive our offerings and conceive bastards with The Mortals, we can certainly send our own messages.” He looked at her, eyes full of something she did not recognise, something _fond_ “Gods aren’t sincere, we take much more than we give, and you do not. Anyone would be a fool not to want you, to _adore_ you”

 

There it was again. The familiar burning sensation on her back, the pain growing as Genji spoke. The room was warmer than before, Genji’s passion alight, and he was so close. Angela hadn’t realised how much bigger he was than her, his arms and hands thick, strong and defined. He lifted his hand, and touched her alula between his fingers, rough but gentle against the bone.

 

* * *

 

If anyone had asked Angela a month after her arrival if she wanted to go home to her family, she would have said yes. Out of obligation rather than personal interest.

 

Three full months had passed since her arrival, and she was happier than she had ever been before. She had healed considerably since her attack, the scars and bruises vanishing, but her wings remaining the same. She was still too weak to walk, but it didn’t matter. Genji was there. The Dragon was her companion throughout her stay, and she loved his company.

 

At times, her back would randomly burn. She did not know why, but each time it did, Genji was somehow involved. His presence a catalyst for a pain she didn’t quite understand. She didn’t care though, willing to take all the pain in the world if it meant just being by his side.

 

Ask Angela if she wanted to go back to her family now, and she would have said no.

In that time, Hanzo too had the dreams. “What will you have me do?” he asked her one evening when Genji was out. The dreams were getting more and more vivid, Angela had them too, and somehow, it felt like desperation for her return was growing. Yes, the Gods were aware she was alive, but they knew not of her location or condition “Please, don’t tell my family I’m here” she begged. If her family found out, they would drag her back home. Back to a life of forced servitude and ridicule from those claiming to be her kinsmen.

 

As it turned out, the reason why Hanzo needed her was to heal his children. Often, after hunts, some of the wolves would return injured. She set to work, asking Genji to collect berries and herbs in order to look after the Lord of The Hunt and his children. He was grateful, and often brought gifts back for her as a sign of his gratitude.

 

Genji always hovered close by when he did this, if his glow was anything to go by he wasn’t too happy about it, and often brought Angela herbs – both rare and new – for her to experiment on, in response to Hanzo’s own gift giving. His fingers lingering as they touched. She was happy, allowed to work and do as she pleased, but missing the sky. She missed the air and the sunlight and trees. She missed The Mortals above all else. After her fall, she’d lost all power to hear their prayers, a feat she believed may have been connected to her wings. She often asked Genji to take any new kind of potion she developed to a village who was in need whenever he left the den, too shy and polite to ask if she could go with him.

 

She didn’t want to bother the brothers, they’d taken such good care of her. So she kept her desires secret.

 

“What’s wrong?” one of the wolves sat her feet, another on her lap as she nursed it. Genji leant against the frame of the furnace as he watched her work. She flinched but smiled at him, knowing full well that he could read her. “nothing’s wrong” she said starting work on the next wolf. The first licked her elbow, and lay by her side, head between its paws looking up. “He likes you” The Dragon mused, stepping forward to stroke the wolf behind the ears. “I bet if he were a man, he’d try to seduce you” Angela’s cheeks brightened, doing her best to focus on the task at hand. Genji sat down, watching her as she worked away, his eyes burning her skin.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, this time firmer. She sighed, caught. She finished with the second Ezo wolf, who barked at her and scampered off. “I miss the earth” she began slowly, looking at her hands. “I miss the trees and the sky and the air.”

 

Fingers touched her chin lifting it up so she could look into the dark eyes of The Dragon.

 

“Why do you do that?” he whispered, voice low.

“Do what?” came her murmured reply, heart beating in her ears.

 _“That”_ he said again, forehead touching her own, his green locks caressing her yellow, grass blooming against a warm sun. “whenever you want something, you never ask. And when you do, you’re always ashamed, why?”

“I was raised to expect nothing in return” she whispered, his lips the primary line of her vision. Expecting something, _anything_ to happen.

 

Genji pulled away, his brow raised, a decision made. Her skin sang for his touch once more, and her back was alight with the beautiful pain. “If that’s the case” the God said reaching for her, “then from now on, I expect you to tell me what you want” he lifted her from the bed, protest on her lips, but his dark hypnotic eyes stilling any defiance left in her blood. He carried her from the bed, and left the room she had been staying in, his body warm as she rested her head on his chest, the beat of his heart so close to her ear.

 

Outside of the room was more rock and caverns, the formation of their home set so that as you looked up, there was an endless blue sky above you. But he did not stop there, Genji carried Angela higher and higher, climbing the steep craggy rocks and the dark hidden stairwells of their home until finally, they were above ground. For the first time in months, Angela saw the world since she had left it, and it filled her heart with joy.

 

“Never be afraid to ask for anything, Angela” Genji whispered, as they watched the sun set together, the Valkyrie in the arms of The Dragon “you deserve as much as anyone else.”

 

Her back burned, but Angela did not care. She was here experiencing something she loved, the man she adored right with her.

~~~

“That’s the first time you’ve ever called me by my name”

 

Angela and Genji lay side by side, facing each other, listening to the music of the night, the warmth radiating off of Genji’s skin. If Hanzo were here, he wouldn’t approve. He was a deeply traditional God.

 

“I can stop if you don’t like it?”

“no, I love it. Please, call me by my name more often, it’s nice when you say it”

“Alright, Angela”

 

* * *

 

 

Angela met Jesse six months into her stay.

 

She was pleasantly surprised by how different he was to his husband, the stoic man at complete odds with his more energetic partner. She’d just regained her ability to walk when she met the God, who just turned up at the den one day.

 

“Ah so you’re the one I’ve heard so much about” he bellowed, lifting her from the ground with ease. He set her down, “Hanz over here doesn’t stop talking about ya, he practically worships ya for coming ‘ere and sortin’ out our pups. I must say they look healthier since I was last ‘ere, thanks a ton doll” all this Jesse said with too much energy, the words slurring together to form a string of garbled language. Angela giggled at the God’s excitement, it was cute.

 

“Jesse, please, you’re going to overwhelm the girl” Hanzo sighed, a hand on his slightly taller husbands shoulder. Jesse laughed and sat down, the ground shifting slightly with his weight.

 

“Say, where’s Genji?”

“He’s running errands right now. But he’ll be back soon.”

“Ah, I see.” The harvester took his hat off and sat up straight, suddenly serious. “There’s been some movement from above” he began, his eyes shifting between Angela and Hanzo. The Valkyrie’s heart sped up, sensing the implications behind his words. “What kind of movement?” Hanzo asked, seemingly sensing it too.

 

Jesse folded his arms, the thick appendages resting on his stomach, dusted with hair. “There is talk of war, the Gods are angry about something, and The Mortals are getting nervous” his eyes swept over to Angela, “Apparently, a _Goddess_ has gone missing. Her family, and many others are _desperate_ to get her back, and they’re convinced she’s been kidnapped.”

 

Angela swallowed as he said this, suddenly afraid.

 

“You know, don’t you?”

“I had a hunch, but I wasn’t too sure. Hanzo doesn’t just trust _anyone_ , you had to be special in some way.”

“Please don’t make me leave”

“I wouldn’t dream of it” he murmured, smile on his lips “but you have to find a solution soon. Because a war against humanity aint going to be a pretty sight.”

 

“I will, thank you sir.”

~~~

Angela was asleep when Genji returned.

He’d been turning over his thoughts all day, a growing desire that had plagued him as far back as he could remember. He had to do it now, if the rumours were true he had to act soon. Angela’s smiling face filled his thoughts, and he walked faster, determined.

 

“Brother, Jesse” Genji walked into the Patriarchs cavernous chambers, lighting up the room with his glow, the pair lying in bed, waiting for sleep. “What is it, Genji?” The God tightened his fist and looked up, it was now or never.

 

“I want to court Angela”

 

 

The first time she noticed, she thought she was imaging things. The morning after meeting Jesse, Genji began to act… _oddly_.

 

For one, he was quieter, taking his time in speaking to her. Not that he didn’t think about what to say, just that he was much more serious. Another thing, was how bare the rooms suddenly seemed. Jesse and Hanzo always seemed to be gone, leaving the two of them alone longer than she was used to. And finally, Hanzo’s eldest child – a white Ezo wolf by the name of Horkew – began to accompany them wherever they went.

 

After the third day of this, she decided to ask him about it, her confusion building. “I’m trying to court you, Angela” Genji replied, as they sat together in The Mortal Realm. His words were soft and he seemed shyer than usual, his glow salmon like the sky at sunset.  “My brother and brother-in-law both know of my intentions, and I have their approval” he looked at her longingly, Horkew’s eye’s watching his every movement. “I’ve never had reason to do so in the past, so this is still a learning process for me.”  He stroked her braid, “if it does not offend you, will you allow me to continue?” Angela’s back burned viciously at his words, her skin burning bright. “I would very much like that, Genji” she whispered, voice quaking.

 

* * *

 

Angela knew not of a time where she was happier. This was the first time she could say, without lying to anyone, that she was truly happy. Looking back, Angela was glad about everything that had happened: her fall, the loss of her wings and her stay with The Fallen Gods. Angela would gladly do it over again, if it meant she would meet the same people a thousand times over.

 

Genji made every step of the way bearable, the mischief and humour he presented opposed to her own sensible and caring nature, created a perfect bubble of harmony for the two of them. Her father would never have approved, and she was glad that he was not here to stop their blossoming relationship. It was dangerous though, the growing threat of war failed to provide a blanket of security for them, and as the days passed by, Angela was forced to stay more often in the den than in the open for security more than anything else.

 

But that did not stop her from continuing the work she loved. She would make potions and remedies within the den, sending Genji out to take them in her place when he was doing his rounds. He did it without complaint, rising from the earth in the form of a green Dragon. Sometimes, Angela felt as though Genji was too good for her. As far as she was aware, she was no longer a God. With what was left over of her wings and her unique abilities, she was destined to die as quickly as both the Mortals the Standard Demigods. Her death would cause Genji so much pain. He deserved someone who lived as long as he would. And there were other things.

 

He often spoke of the beautiful women he had encountered on his travels, whether on Angela’s behalf or on his own. She tried her best not to feel the pangs of jealousy, knowing full well that he was a flirt, but it was hard not to feel it when the words left his lips and cut her so deeply. She had yet to feel any kind of womanly pleasure, and she was vastly inexperienced in the matters courtship, still unsure of what to do whenever he _touched_ her, or kissed her. She feared that one day, he would realise that she was a dull creature, without talent or standing whatsoever, and denounce her as a nuisance, a bore.

 

One day, she decided to follow Genji. Curious both about his doings, and wanting to see how her potions helped the people. She knew that he was headed to a village close by the Den, and if she could keep low and watch him from afar, perhaps, just perhaps she could see some of the women he spoke so fondly of. She waited until Genji was gone, Jesse was busy, and Hanzo was hunting. Descending from the earths pits she made her way.

 

A forest soon came up, and as she walked through it, something caught her eye. A long sliver of silver lay in the tall grass, pretty and untouched for what seemed like ages, slightly rusting. She picked it up, curious, the light bouncing off of it, only realising too late what it was.

 

The sliver of silver was her _sword_. The one she had lost all those months ago when she had first been attacked. By the time realisation dawned her, it was too late. Purple fog shot from the sky, falling faster and brighter than a meteor made up only of amethysts.

 

“Sombra!” the Goddess landed, falling on top of her sister. “Angela, my sister Angela! Where have you been!” she cried, tears brimming from her eyes. “You have been gone for so long, and we have missed you!” she kissed the Valkyrie over and over again, her tears wetting her face.

 

Angela hugged her sister back, realising too, that she had missed her sister. “I’ve missed you too, Sombra.” She confessed truthfully, her arms full.

“we must go” Sombra’s tears starting anew, smile on her lips. “we must let our fathers know and celebrate your return!”

“Sombra, I cannot.”

“Why not? You’ve been gone this long don’t you – “ her eyes widened “what has happened to your wings!” She cried, alarmed.

 

Angela had forgotten about that.

“I was attacked” she replied sheepishly. “Who did it?” she seethed, the Mischief Makers eyes ready to draw blood from the offending party. “They are dead now Sombra, but please you cannot tell anyone I am here, no one must know!”

 

Anger rose in Sombra’s eyes, the purple ablaze with betrayal “Is someone holding you?” she cried hotly. “Is someone making you stay here with threats of harm? If so then let me deal with them. I shall show them who I am!”

 

Before she could reply, a roar ripped through the air. A bright green beast fell from the sky, and landed between The Valkyrie and The Mischief Maker. A Dragon. Genji. Sombra cried out, taking out her own sword, and engaging the beast in battle. Angela tried to get the pair to stop, but it was no use. They where adamant to hurt each other, both filled with the sense they where somehow protecting her.

 

This is not what she wanted. For her sister to harm the man she loved, and for the man she loved to harm her sister. she tried to stop the pair, but each time she went to them, one would throw her down. Genji was bloody and dizzy, her more agile and mischievous sister using her quick cunning to tire him.

 

It was then that she remembered her sword. Taking the blade, light bounced from the weapon and hit her sister, temporarily blinding her. Genji used this to swipe her to the side, the Goddess hitting a tree. Momentarily incapitated.

 

He took Angela in his massive paw, and soared into the air, Sombra stunned by all that had occurred. They flew higher and farther than she remembered possible, Genji wanting to get away from the Goddess as much as possible.

 

He was still bleeding, and Angela realised seconds before their crash that Genji was dying. They fell into a deeper part of the forest, abandoned from life and visitor alike, air knocked out of their lungs as the earth collided with them.

 

Genji transformed back into his original form the moment he touched the earth.

 

“Genji! Genji! Please, don’t die” she cried, shaking the God with all the force she could muster. He gurgled, blood bubbling on his lips. She could do nothing. She had no power, no abilities, nothing that could save him from his imminent death. She was utterly useless.

 

All her fears where coming true.

 

Genji raised a hand, his fingers wanting to hold her face, the pain in his eyes, understanding. She wanted to soothe him, to comfort him, to somehow – prayer. That was the only answer. Prayer.

 

She took his hand, and pressed it to her lips. Her breaths coming out short and heavy her words lost to her ears as she chanted. What she said or prayed about she did not lnow, only willing that it would at least soothe the man she loved. Even when the word Mercy left her lips, and her back caught fire she did not stop. Seeing a single moment of hesitation an eternity of pain Genji would have to endure as he died.

 

“Angela” he murmured, voice quiet. She shook her head, desperate for him to see that stopping now was not an option. “Angela he said again, this time louder and much more earnest. She opened her eyes, a prayer still on her lips, the words fading into nothing as she gaped at what was before her. The injuries were gone. All the cuts from the attack had healed and Genji was alright, smiling up at the girl. “H-how are you alive?” she stammered, the once injured God lifting her from the ground, hand still holding the one held in prayer. “You of course. How else could I have survived?” He took her hand, and kissed it her cheeks blossoming with colour. “But how?” she cried, still not understanding. Genji reached out behind her, and held something on her back. “It may have something to do with these” he murmured, finger and thumb touching her – Angela gasped. A small lake was nearby, and she ran to it, expecting what she thought was too good to be believed.

Wings. Long golden, translucent feathers grew from her back, filling the area with light and Gold. Her wings and feathers had grown back.

 

“We have work to do” Genji murmured, coming up behind her, serious. “Your sister saw me take you away, and she has every right to believe I was the one who stole you. Before long an army will descend, and war will break out. We must head back and prepare.”

 

~~~

“What am I to you?”

They were back at the Den. Angela lay on her side, pelts wrapped tightly around her breasts, voice quaking, thighs slick with fresh blood, looking up at Genji.

 

He had claimed her. In the most intimate way possible.

 

The Dragon’s fingers danced across her throat, touching the places where his lips had marked her, mapping out his movements across her skin with the tip of his fingers. The pelts lay just below his abdomen, fine dark hairs peeking through without shame. “My love” he whispered, voice low. “not a lover, but love. My heart and everything else that goes with it” his lips touched her forehead, glow brightening. “As a companion” a kiss “a friend” another kiss “a lover” another kiss “and as a Goddess” this time, the kiss ending on her lips.

 

She felt his leg curl around her body, bringing her closer. His nether regions growing in interest once more.

 

~~~

“Jesse, I have a request of you” the scruffy God was sat with his legs up, hat tilted to cover his eyes as though he were asleep. The Harvester, lifted the hat with a thumb, little effort required in the action, a smile on his lips.

“What can I do for ya Genji?”

“It’s about me and Angela. I think I may have a solution that may ease the growing threats of war.”

“Then shoot. What can I do to help?”

“The Fruit of Binding.

 

* * *

 

 

The Den shook, explosions rocking the earth. Dust fell and landed like rainwater on and around the Gods. But no one took any notice of the attacks, more concerned about what was happening at present more so than anything else. Genji stood, arm outstretched, a burgundy fruit in hand. Its split in its flesh revealed gorgeous red rubies, ripe and ready to be eaten, waiting for The Valkyrie to pick.

War raging above them.

“Join me” he whispered. His eyes where set and his voice was barely above a whisper, the earth shaking, crashing around them. “it is what you want, don’t you?” he spoke so seriously, so candidly too that it was as though he where another person. There was no other option, with her Fathers and their troops at the door of the Den and Genji before her, this was the only solution.

 

The Fruit of Binding was its name. the very thing that bound Genji and his brother to earth. A single seed from its body could tie an immortal to the earth for as long as a month. No escape, a sentence that left the eater in an eternal limbo, neither God or Man, but something in-between.

Much like her.

 

“and if I eat it, I will no longer be known to man” she turned as she spoke looking at the entrance of the cave, in her room. Where it had all started. “You will be known, but you will be as if a ghost, able to slip in and out of realities, but no longer acknowledged as much as you where.” The sound of his feet were loud against the backdrop of explosions above them.

“And one of these will be enough to bind me to the earth, leaving me free to roam as I wish?”

“and free to be with me” his arms held her waist, lips on the back of her neck, fruit pressed against her abdomen. “with you” she murmured, eyes closing. There was no other solution. Either face the harsh reality of her family’s insistence that she has been stolen and see her lover harmed in her stead, or eat of the fruit and reveal that she was no longer full God, but part. Forcing her fathers to believe she had done this on her own accord.  

 

These were her options. “Stay with me” he whispered, his skin hot and comforting against her skin, a kiss seared into the nape of her neck, the glow enveloping her like a glove. Here was a man who truly loved her. Who taught her that she was so much more than a thing or a servant, here he was begging for her to stay, and she had to make a decision. The explosions grew louder, the God of War and the God of Death threateningly close, the sound echoing around the room.

 

She took the fruit, having reached a decision. From its flesh, she plucked 6 gorgeous seeds, each plump and ripe as the last.  One for each month of her binding.

 

“Six months I shall be with you” she whispered “and six months I shall be away. I exist to ease the suffering of others and earth is my first home. Earth will know no peace if I take twelve, my father’s wreaking havoc on everyone that crosses their path, and I shall know no rest if I take none. You will be killed by my fathers and I dragged back to my life of before. I would not even be allowed to resurrect you”

 

The earth shook, the shouts of Hanzo and Jesse clearer than before. “Do what you must, then” he breathed, rocking her in his arms. “Whatever it takes for us to be together, let it be done. I shall wait for you my love, my Valkyrie.”

 

“My Dragon” she whispered, placing the seeds in her mouth. He kissed her cheek as she swallowed the seeds. Her soul bound to the earth as much as she was bound to him. No matter what happened, The Valkyrie and The Dragon were together. And as her father’s voices drew closer, she knew that she had made the right decision. This was her home, and no one could take that away from her.

 

 

* * *

 

  

[Genji/Mercy](http://martasketch.tumblr.com/image/152780134129)by: [martasketch](http://martasketch.tumblr.com/)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank You so much for reading. Please leave your reviews and comments below.


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